All I Really Want
by Shinoda Senshi
Summary: The world would run so much smoother if people just did things his way... Undertaker/Kane slash.


**All I Really Want**

The couple in the next room is making their own homemade porn video. They have to be. Except they're not in the privacy of their own home. Those sex freaks are in a hotel room with too thin walls. Frankly, I'm not even sure there are just two of them. There could be a whole production team in Room 125!

Even more infuriating than the woman obviously faking orgasm after orgasm – like any of us are supposed to buy that _oh baby, oh baby, you're the KING baby!_ – is the fact that Kane doesn't seem to notice it. He's not noticing me, either, which only fuels my fury.

It's bad enough that I have to listen to this. It's even worse that they're keeping me up. If I'm all groggy-eyed in the morning because of an all-night fuckfest, I would at least like to be part of it.

Kane has found something else to occupy his mind. Something other than me. This is unacceptable.

"Kane!" The woman hits a particularly high note that makes me want to take a bite out of the headboard.

He turns the page in his book. Apparently, Harry Potter is much more interesting than I am. I got a pretty good idea where the boy wonder can stick his wand.

My predicament is this: As aggravated as I am by the symphony of sex sounds bleeding through the walls, I am also incredibly horny. Which, considering my current relationship with Kane, is usually a given. Except Kane is too preoccupied with the exploits of some fictional character to take full advantage of the situation. I know that he and I would put that noisy duo in Room 125 to shame.

Harry fucking Potter. The number one cock-blocker of the wizarding world.

"Kane!" If that dickhead thinks he can ignore me, then he's due for a reality check.

Eventually, Kane graces me with a glance. "What do you want? Harry and Ron are about to enter the Chamber of Secrets."

"I don't care if they're about to break into the Playboy Mansion! How can you read with that racket going on?"

The simple shrug of his shoulders is like a mountain upheaval. "I block it out, I guess." He smirks, apparently hearing the ruckus for the first time. "Is that bothering you?"

I'm not sure how I'm going to explain Kane's bruised and battered corpse to Vince. McMahon will probably find some way to turn it into being my fault.

"Just a bit."

"Then why don't you just turn on the television and drown them out?" He looks at me like I haven't got a brain in my head and need to be led around by the hand.

I ought to backhand him. I really should. The impulse is almost too strong to rein in. "The reason the TV isn't on, you dim bulb, is because I was being courteous. To you. You don't hear me complaining about the light being on while I'm trying to sleep, do you?"

Head tilted to one side, he blinks at me. "Oh… You were being… nice?"

Like that's such a foreign concept. Just because I don't walk around with a permanent smile on my face, giving away cars and refrigerators does not mean I am incapable of generosity.

"Yes, Kane. I was being nice. You read that damn book the whole drive." Ignoring me all the while, I might add. "So I figured you'd want to keep on reading, no matter how late it got."

More owl-like blinking. Like he's having trouble processing what I've said. And though I'd rather have my balls ripped off by rabid coyotes than admit it out loud, I love his blinky looks. Especially first thing in the morning, when I wake him up for sex.

Well… Not so much _for_ sex as _with_ sex. I'm a freaking Houdini when it comes to getting into Kane's pants.

"Wow…" He grins at me. That ultra-wide, mega-watt grin he only shares with me. "Sometimes, you truly amaze me!" He then returns to his book, a small smile still on his lips.

_And that's when I killed him, your Honor! Strangled him with his own boxer shorts!_

I'm off the bed and on top of him faster than the APA on a freshly tapped keg. Harry and company get chucked across the room. The two of us tussle on the bed, which was not manufactured to endure such abuse. My fingers dig into his shoulders as I proceed to throttle him for all it's worth. I've got the upper hand, until a thumb to my eyeball knocks me off balance. That boy never did like to fight fair.

Kane manages to roll me over. The momentum sends me toppling off the bed, landing me in the space between the wall and the bed frame. If I had wanted to get the wind knocked out of me and my head thunked against the floor, I would've stayed at work.

I close my eyes, waiting for my brains to unscramble themselves.

"That's what you get for being a jackass," taunts Kane.

Well, screw him. Now that I think about it, it was the screwing that got me into this mess. To make matters worse, that woman is _still_ caterwauling!

"You're okay, right?" Is that a note of concern I hear? "Between the chokeslams and the tombstones and being beaten with just about anything I could lay my hands on, I know a little tumble like that didn't hurt you. Right?"

This is a real shitty thing I'm doing to him. Making him worry. But it makes me all warm and fuzzy inside to know he cares enough to be worried. Then again, it might just be the triple bean burrito I had for dinner. Still, it's good to know he cares.

"If you are faking this…"

"You know I never fake anything with you, Kane."

I think Kane just invented a curse word. I'll have to ask him how he spells it.

I peek out of one eye to find him glowering down at me. "You suck," he says.

"On occasion. Now, help me up."

"I should let your dopey ass sleep down there." Proving his words were nothing but hot air, he extends a hand.

It was a hell of a lot easier getting into that space than getting out of it. With his help I manage to get to my feet. Suddenly, it's like I can feel the world spinning on its axis. Not a very pleasant sensation, let it be known.

Kane swears softly as I stumble around the bed. "Why do you have to damage yourself on my watch? Vince will find some way to make this my fault."

"Where's the compassion you showed a minute ago?"

"I have no compassion for you," Kane says. "Only contempt. Now, get over here so I can see what you've done to yourself."

"What _I've_ done?" Against my better judgment, I sit down beside him. "_You're_ the one who hurled me off the bed."

"And _you're_ the dumbass that launched himself at me, dumbass."

"Fuck you!"

"You keep trying! Every fucking hour of the day!" I feel his fingers part the hair at the back of my head. "All we do is eat, sleep, work, and screw."

"So what? You wanna go to a movie?"

He presses at the tender spot and I jerk away. "That hurt?"

"It didn't tickle." It's fairly common knowledge that not only do I have very little patience but I am also probably the worst patient anyone would be unlucky enough to come across.

Kane leaves me on the bed to rifle through his bag. I'd be lying if I said I am oblivious to the way the cotton of Kane's boxer's mold to his backside. Or the smooth arch of his back. Or the strong flex of his thighs. Thighs, back and ass. Just a few of Kane's attributes I've committed to memory.

After a quick detour to the bathroom, he returns to me. A cup of water in one hand and two small pills in the other. "Take these."

"If you're trying to get me loopy so I'll sleep with you, then you're trying too hard."

"I think that tells more about your frame of mind than mine."

"What do I get if I take my medicine?"

He chews on his bottom lip and it's all I can do not to launch myself at him again. He _knows_ how I feel about his mouth. Whenever I see him eat a Popsicle, I'm reduced to monosyllabic words and a series of gurgles. Also, he bites his lips when he knows we need to be quiet. Unlike the couple in Room 125.

Releasing his lip, he asks, "What do you want?"

Easy answer. "You."

"You've already got that."

That statement alone almost makes up for my headache.

"Choose something else," he says.

I could request he polish my bike for the next six months. Or that he let _me_ pick the radio station, even when he's driving. Or for him to never drive again, for that matter. Kane tends to get a little too friendly with the gas pedal.

I settle for a solution to my most pressing problem. "I'd really like the couple next door to give it a rest. Any longer and they might start a fire from the friction."

"Done," Kane says, shrugging his shoulders.

I figure he's going to pick up the phone and call the front desk. I have a bad history with receptionists. I tend to make them a little… uneasy. I can't imagine why.

After handing me my dose, Kane dons his mask and my long leather coat. "Be right back." He opens the door and steps into the hallway.

I wouldn't miss this for anything in the world.

Kane's in front of Room 125 by the time I stick my head out into the hall. He pounds on the door several times. Hard enough for me to hear the hinges rattle. He doesn't let up until the door flies open.

Before the occupants can let loose one indignant word, Kane unleashes his inner monster. "I'm only gonna tell you this once, numb nut, so listen up. You want to rent a love shack, you do that someplace else. I got better things to do than listen to you and your squeeze take a ride on the mattress springs all night long! So, this is what is going to happen. I am going to go back to my room. I am going to get back in my bed. I am going to go to sleep. And if I hear so much as a squeak from your side of the wall, I _will_ come back and I _will_ crush your balls like a pair of walnuts! You got that, pencil dick?"

I can almost hear the guy gulp.

"That's a good boy. You two have a good night. And be sure to tip your cleaning lady. God only knows what she's going to find on those sheets."

Kane stalks away, the embodiment of all things dark and disturbing.

I rip his mask off as soon as he shuts our door. "I am so proud of you."

There's that grin again. So contrary to what everyone has come to expect from the Big Red Machine. He's not all gloom and doom. Not all the time. "Thanks," he says. "I learned from the best."

Damn right he did!

As per our agreement, I down the medicine. I know I'm in for one hell of a goose-egg come morning, but I hope to be relatively pain-free by then.

Discarding my coat, he returns to his bed. I climb in beside him. For a moment, it looks like he's going to put up a fight. In the end, he just shakes his head and makes room for me.

Engulfed in the dark and the silence, I can finally relax. Which is all I really wanted, anyway. Well… Not _all_ I wanted…

"Kane?"

"Yeah?"

"Come here."

"I can't get much closer."

"Sure you can." I press myself against his backside.

Sighing loudly, he grumbles, "You can have a concussion or you can have an erection. You cannot have both."

**END**


End file.
